


back to the moment

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: “I love you, Danya,”It’s probably the drink talking, Dany should have reasoned, but it was easier to sink into Carlos’s lips, into Carlos’s sheets in his bunk in the shitty motorhome. It was easier to rip the Red Bull shirt from Carlos’s shoulders as his teeth grazed over the Spaniard’s neck, eliciting a moan from his lips.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marieblanc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieblanc/gifts).



> Okay, so this is a fic for Abby who I started talking to at the beginning of this week and we discussed Danylos sadness and the boys being idiots and pining over each other. This fic is basically a result of that conversation. Thanks to Jamie for constant cheerleading. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

It always hurts in the end. Most relationships begin with a bang and end with little more than a whimper. It’s hard to imagine when you first meet someone’s eyes, how much they will come to mean to you, how hard you will break you when you’ve laid everything bare for them to see. Dany wished he’d spotted the signs, that he’d known what he was going to do back then - but he met beautiful coffee coloured eyes, Carlos was beautiful, even then - and he’d fallen hard.  
  
Carlos knew, of course he knew that the awkward Russian boy had a crush on him, everyone had a crush on him. But he always tried to get closer to Dany - a hand on his shoulder, his lips brushing over his name slowly, like it mattered - it was easier then. There was no spectre of Formula One hanging over them then, it was just _them_ . Their days were punctuated by hours in the motorhome, poring over race data, feet in laps, hands brushing over each other. Nothing else had mattered to them then. It was just the pair of them in their oversized Arden overalls and their dreams - inching ever closer with outstretched fingers. It all changes a year later when Dany lifts the title in GP3, when Carlos throws himself at the taller man. Dany feels the smile dance over his lips as his arms curve around Carlos’s waist. The Spaniard’s lips brush against the shell of his ear and the smell of champagne, oil and sweat dances over his nose.  
  
“I love you,” Carlos had whispered against his ear later that night when their tongues were both heavy with alcohol, when their shirts were unbuttoned just a little more - Carlos’s eyes are darker than onyx as he pulls away from Dany, his tongue running over his lips slowly.  
  
“I love you, Danya,”  
  
It’s probably the drink talking, Dany should have reasoned, but it was easier to sink into Carlos’s lips, into Carlos’s sheets in his bunk in the shitty motorhome. It was easier to rip the Red Bull shirt from Carlos’s shoulders as his teeth grazed over the Spaniard’s neck, eliciting a moan from his lips. Their bodies press against each other and they fill up the gaps - melting into each other as though they were one. Dany feels his chest swell as Carlos’s lips fold over his own and they mould together. The alcohol is sharp against Dany’s lips, Carlos’s fingers fumble at his shirt, press against his bare skin.  
  
“I love you too,” He finds himself saying - as Carlos whines against his lips.  
  
They collide together, each touch burning, one after the other. They tumble into the scratchy sheets, Dany’s hands tugging on Carlos’s dark curls, like all the times he imagined. He thinks about all the times he’s sank into the sheets on his own, his hand wrapped around his dick, come splattering across his hand. It feels like a dream - having Carlos’s lips against his own - a dream he doesn’t want to wake from.    
  
But he has to. The next morning, he wakes up between cold, rumpled sheets and it _hurts_ . It hurts that he left. The alcohol feels like ashes against his mouth, the scent of Carlos still curls around him, the come still sticking to his boxer shorts. He can still feel every kiss that Carlos pressed to his lips, to his skin and he wonders if he dreamt it, if it was all just a lie. He tries to pretend that it never happened as he forces himself into the shower, scrubs at his skin until it’s raw, wonders why Carlos left. He stares at himself in the foggy mirror afterwards, stares intently at his face - wonders why anyone would look at him twice. His hands ghost over his face, over his uneven skin, over his slight overbite and his too-large lips - who could love him like this? Maybe that’s why Carlos left he tells himself, staring at his face as it morphs before his eyes. Maybe Carlos left because he realised that he’d made a mistake. He tries to push away the thoughts as he lathers up the shaving foam, as he tugs the razor over his face - but he’s barely thinking about the blade scraping at his face, his thoughts still on the lovebite on his collarbone, stark against his skin. He doesn’t even realise he’s cut himself until he’s staring down at the deep red blood dripping into the sink, red on white.  
  
He hears from Carlos a week later when he’s announced as the Toro Rosso driver.  
  
_Chili: Congratulations!_  
  
He looks down at the word on his display, his teeth pulling on his lip as he thinks about the younger man, about how he looked when they’d made love, how his pupils had blown and his swollen lips had called out his name. Carlos hasn’t mentioned it since and Dany daren’t broach the subject with him. He’s combed through his social media accounts - watched the younger man on and off of flights, watched him partying with a few of their friends. He pretends that it doesn’t hurt, that Carlos hasn’t got what he wanted and is moving on. He ends up thinking about the smooth lips, about the plains of Carlos’s body and tugs his dick out of his pants - it’s frenzied and hurried, as though he will get caught - he feels disgusted when he comes only a few minutes later, salty come flicking over his thumb.  
  
He doesn’t end up replying to the message.  


* * *

  
  
He throws himself into Toro Rosso, into being the best. Every moment of his time is spent at the factory at Milton Keynes - in the simulator, in the car, in the factory - he dreams of race data, in between snatches of brown eyes. He almost forgets about Carlos, almost - he checks the Formula Renault result on his phone after every race, smiles when he spots the familiar name. He enjoys saying the name, enjoys it ghosting over his lips. It feels familiar, it feels like home. They speak when they can - but Dany’s life is different now. He barely has any time to himself, his life consumed by race data and by meeting with his new team - Carlos sometimes sends him messages but they go unanswered most of the time. Dany should feel guilty - but he doesn’t. He thinks about that fateful morning, when he woke up cradled in cold sheets.  
  
He barely has time to think about relationships. He goes out with his friends, Nick drags him out more often than not - and there’s times that his lips meet someone else’s, there’s times that he will make out with some nameless face against the wall afterwards. Nick will smirk at him, punch him in the shoulder and make various comments, but none of them matter to Dany. Every time he kisses someone, their eyes melt away into chocolate brown and the visage of Carlos appears before him. None of them kissed like he does, none of them make his skin burn, make his heart beat against his chest as the Spaniard did.  
  
Carlos becomes nothing more than a memory - a mere ghost - Dany sometimes sees him, sees how he’s changed - become more beautiful, grown into his features wonderfully. Carlos messages him sometimes, but it’s not the same anymore. They seem to have grown out of one another - he’s part of Formula One now and Carlos isn’t. Their dreams of driving against each other seem to be nothing but a childhood fantasy. Dany still checks Carlos’s social media - spots him in his ever present Red Bull overalls and wonders if he’ll ever see him again, if he’ll have the same feelings as before.  


* * *

  
  
It turns out that he doesn’t have long to wait - as the new season beckons in, Sebastian decides to jump ship and suddenly, Dany suddenly finds himself in Red Bull overalls standing next to Daniel with a megawatt grin on his face. It doesn’t feel real - that someone like him could score a seat in one of Formula One’s biggest teams - he still feels like a fraud, like he doesn’t belong. He finds himself rewatching interviews with himself and Dan, feeling awkward next to the smiling Australian. His life intensifies and he pushes away the old feelings as he trains harder in the gym, spends every spare hour in the simulator.  
  
However, his busy life is soon interrupted by his phone buzzing late at night. Furrowing his brow, he blinks at the clock before he answers the call. “Hello?”  
  
“Danya,” A familiar voice calls down the phone - it’s muffled, almost like he’s outside a club or something, his tone tinged with alcohol. “Long time no speak,”  
  
“Chili, it’s the middle of the night,” Dany says, trying to push away his annoyance. Carlos probably called him by mistake, he meant to call Mitch or someone else most likely.  
  
“I know, but I had to tell you something-” Carlos mutters and Dany feels his heart slam against his chest at the words. “I...I’m going to drive for Toro Rosso next season, I’ll be in the paddock with my Danya, like old times,”  
  
Dany feels the breath drop out of his chest at Carlos’s words. He anticipated this at some point but not so soon. He thinks about seeing Carlos again, about seeing those chocolate brown eyes once more.  
  
“Danya? You there?” Carlos slurs out and Dany panics at his voice, panics at the thought of seeing Carlos again. He’s not sure if he can do this, if he can pretend that the old feelings won’t resurface. He makes up some excuse about being tired and having simulator work in the morning and hangs up. The dial tone still hangs in his mind as his hand curves around his cock, he wanks off to the sound of Carlos’s drunken words. He feels guilty afterwards, as the come splashes over his fingers but it’s all worth it  as he lays back in the soft pillows and comes to the realisation that there’s still something there, at least to him.  


* * *

  
  
Dany meets Carlos’s eyes again across the paddock and time seems to stop. Dany feels his mouth go dry at the sight of the young Spanish man - his feelings never went away he realises, as Carlos smiles at him and moves closer. The Toro Rosso overalls cling to his body and Dany slowly realises that he’s fucked, that he never really got over Carlos in the first place. The smile transports him back to the scene, back to three years ago when he and Carlos were tangled up together, when they thought that they’d be together forever, back when nothing could tear them apart.  
  
“God, I missed you,” are the first words from Carlos’s mouth as brown eyes met hazel-green ones. Dany feels like he can’t breathe, like Carlos is going to run away again - he wants nothing more than to reach out and grab hold of the tanned hand of the man who was his best friend, who was his everything.  
  
“How’ve you been?” It’s so difficult, Dany thinks - they never used to be like this, it used to be easier, but they’re not the same people he supposes. They’re not the same people they were before. “I can’t believe you’re here,”  
  
“I can’t believe it either,” Carlos says, smiling widely. He suits the overalls, he suits the lifestyle already, Dany notes - it’s almost as though he’s sunk into his new life already and Dany envies him for that. He looks like he belongs already. “Already sick of the cameras in my face though,”  
  
Dany hates this small chatter - he never expected to do this with Carlos. They were always different, or at least he thought they were. Maybe it was just another cliche, maybe the old them was gone with no chance of a resurrection. His hands itch to brush against Carlos, to see if the fire still exists between them. But before he can, another young man in Toro Rosso overalls pops up next to Carlos and he watches the Spaniard light up. “Dany, this is Max, he’s going to be my partner for the new season,”  
  
Dany watches Max’s eyes fix on him, like he’s watching him carefully before they flicker back to Carlos. He’s analysing, Dany realises, analysing for weakness - he smiles at Carlos once more and mentions that he’ll see him again before he turns and walks away. He doesn’t see that Carlos’s eyes remain locked on his retreating figure for a few moments.  


* * *

 

He replays the scene over and over in his head - vowing that he’ll never talk to Carlos again. But Carlos works his way back into his life somehow and he hates himself for that, for allowing him back in so easily. Carlos falls back into his life like he never left, letting him pretend that the thing between them never happened. His hands brush against Dany’s as they walk across the paddock and the fire burns across the Russian’s skin. He knows he should tell Carlos to stop, that they can’t go back to the way things were before, that Carlos left that person behind in the cold sheets.  
  
But he can’t do that. He allows Carlos to come back in - to brush their hands together, to be near him, to laugh at his jokes. Carlos is the same person he was before - the same kind hearted and funny boy that Dany had fallen in love with all those years ago - but Dany doesn’t feel the same. All he can think about is that he’s no longer good enough, that he never was to begin with. He knows that he shouldn’t think like that, that he’s a successful driver in a top team with a beautiful apartment. But sometimes the walls come down and close in on him. He finds himself looking at Carlos, wishing that they could go back to the way things were, back when things were easier and when Dany didn’t have these doubts.  
  
They dance around each other all season, fingers barely brushing against each other, leading each other down the merry path. But it all comes to a head in Sochi. It’s Dany’s home race and he’s feeling confident - only for the mask to splinter when Carlos hits the barriers in one of the practise sessions. Dany feels himself unravel watching the wreck of Carlos’s car, as the minutes tick by and they try to reach the Spaniard. He thinks about all the time they wasted, about how there were times he hated Carlos for leaving him that night but none of that matters now. He watches the wreck and everything becomes frighteningly clear.  
  
He’s still in love with Carlos. He always has been, probably always will be - Carlos is a part of his life that he simply cannot part with, like something old that you try on and you’re delighted when it still fits. Carlos still fits in his life, he realises, as he glances at the twisted metal wreckage of the Toro Rosso, and he needs to tell Carlos that.  


* * *

  
  
He waits until later that evening when he’s sure the entourage has gone home for the evening. He nearly turns back to his car several times but he takes a deep breath and slowly walks towards the room Carlos is staying in. It’s quiet and dark when he enters the room and he takes care to close the door carefully, not wanting to wake the Spaniard - the moonlight is shining through the window and illuminates Carlos’s hair - it looks soft and silky in the dim light and Dany’s fingers itch to touch it. He moves closer to the bed, taking in the sight of Carlos still breathing - his chest slowing down - as he watches the thick eyelashes flutter slightly, hiding the chocolate brown eyes from view. Carlos’s chest moves up and down slowly, there’s a few bruises visible under the hospital gown that make Dany grimace but he’s alive. He’s _here_ and he’s breathing, he thinks to himself, reaching out and grasping Carlos’s hand. It’s soft and warm against his own. His thumb strokes gently over the back of Carlos’s hand, tracing the veins, marvelling at the warmth. He seems to stay there for an eternity, before he feels the hand squeeze his own back.  
  
“Hey,” Carlos mutters, his voice laced with tiredness. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here,”  
  
“Wasn’t expecting to come,” Dany admits. His thumb still strokes over Carlos’s hand - the brown eyes flicker down to their entwined hands before they meet hazel-green ones again. “I’m sorry for not coming earlier,”  
  
“Don’t apologise. I’m happy to see you now,” Carlos says softly.  
  
It sounds like a cliche to Dany but he smiles anyway. “I just wanted to see if you’re alright,”

The silence stretches out between them. Dany hates it, hates that there’s awkward silences between them now. It just serves as another reminder of what they lost.  
  
“Lost what?” Carlos asks and Dany realises that he was thinking out loud. “What have we lost?”  
  
“Us,” Dany says after a deep breath. “We lost us and then we lost ourselves. I don’t think I ever got over you leaving me,”  
  
Carlos is silent for a moment as Dany continues. “I just...I wanted to believe so badly that I was the one for you. I think deep down, I still want to believe that,” He realises that his hand is still twined with Carlos, and with a blush on his cheeks, he pulls his hand away.  
  
But Carlos snatches it back, eyes dark with an emotion that Dany cannot place. “Why aren’t you the one for me? Why can’t you be?”  
  
“Because it can’t be me. You deserve better, Chili. You’ll always deserved the best,” Dany whispers, staring down at the scratchy blankets.  
  
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this-” Carlos says in disbelief. “It’s not about what I deserve, it’s about what I want, Dany,”  
  
“Which is clearly not me-” Dany begins but he’s silenced by Carlos’s hand brushing against his cheek. The brown eyes that he fell in love with all those years ago bore into him.  
  
“I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen, Dany,” Carlos says softly.  
  
But Dany’s eyes aren’t on him, they’re on the ground, his cheeks red. “It’s clearly always been you,” His thumb strokes over Dany’s cheek as he leans in and their lips connect for the first time in years. Everything seems to melt away with the collision, Dany’s eyes sliding shut as Carlos’s lips dance over his own. In the back of his mind, he keeps thinking about how Carlos will walk away from this, will turn his beautiful eyes on Dany and he’ll be back in the moment before, when Carlos took away everything.  
  
But he doesn’t. Carlos stays where he is, smiling as they pull apart, as Dany’s hand curves through the silky soft strands of his hair. Their eyes connect on one another and Dany pushes the insecurities away. They’re still there but under the surface, barely visible, and they don’t matter to Dany right in this moment. 

They’ve got a long way to go and it’s not a fairytale ending, but their hands twine together and Dany feels like he could take on the world again. They’re not perfect but they were never supposed to be, he thinks as Carlos smiles, his thumb tracing over Dany’s.  
  
Most relationships start with a bang and end with a whimper. But not all. Some burn brightly, some possess the smallest flame that can ignite once again. 


End file.
